Tag Archives: The Jobby Bus

Nov 16 2010

Ups, Downs, Flats and Spins

Yesterday I was on top of things! I was up earlier than usual and was able to get a shower before PC got up for work, and even dried and styled my hair before Rabbit had breakfast.

Usually, I scrape my hair into a clip and drive her to school while wearing sweats or even pajamas, dropping her off at the corner by the entrance to her building, and then driving home, accomplishing the whole transaction in three to four minutes.  Then I’ll go inside and get ready for the day at my own pace, in a quiet house.

But yesterday, I was so proud of myself.  The bouncy new haircut Annette gave me on Saturday was clean and made me happy.  I had makeup on.  I was in jeans and boots and a sweater set.  It was cold out so I had on my white jacket.

The drop-off lanes were full of people leaving little kids at the school, and I made my left turn to ease up to the curb on the corner where I always let Rabbit out.  I took the turn a little wide, and the right front tire hit the curb and went up, then scraped along it, and then went back down as I corrected.

A terrible noise.

I had hit the curb at just the right angle to drag a gash into the sidewall of my tire.  I got out and looked.  Rabbit got out and looked.  All the other parents ignored us.  Rabbit’s eyes widened and I sighed.  Pancake city, that tire.

I shooshed Rabbit off to school, and got out my phone to call my father in law, who apparently had turned off his cell.  I lifted a silent prayer of thanks to God that I wasn’t in my usual drop-off attire, and got back into the warm car.

A friend who is a dude and knows how to change tires was my next thought.  I knew PC couldn’t get away from work.  My friend, unfortunately, was across town on a jobsite and had no transportation.

I got out, emptied my trunk, and got out the jack and the donut spare tire.  Sighing, I turned on the emergency blinkers. NOBODY STOPPED.  I tried to get the bolts loosened on the wheel, but I couldn’t budge them with the tire iron.

I stood there and then looked down.  There was a flattened, many-times-run-over dead bird at my feet on the concrete.

Yeah. I’m done, I thought.  I called the service station where PC had worked up until his new job started last month.  Within 15 minutes, Bruce pulled up in the wrecker and cheerfully and speedily jacked the car up, took off the tire with ease, threw it in the wrecker, and put the donut spare on. It appeared to be in pristine, never-used condition.

“I’ll follow you down to the station,” he said, “And we’ll see if there’s a tire down there we can put on the front.  Just don’t go over 50 on this donut, and don’t worry–it’s going to feel funny driving on it, but it should get you downtown.”

I started the car and pulled away. It felt weird, kind of tilty.  Within three or four blocks, driving cautiously, I noticed Bruce turning off on a shortcut.  Great.  I got on the arterial side highway downtown, and the rattling started.  Then the weird scorchy car smell.  And more rattling.

I limped the car into the station, and stopped.  I got out.

That donut spare was destroyed.  It had probably flattened within ten feet of me pulling away from the curb, and the rim was bent up, the tire almost shredded.  Eighteen years in a trunk unused, that tire was probably brittle and out of air.  Good lord.

They found me a temporary tire for the car, threw away the donut, and I was on my way within 20 minutes.  PC’s dad did some calling for me to tire places in town and found two new front tires for my car (the temporary one was just a smidge smaller than required, but would do for a couple of days), as well as a replacement donut, a rarity for a 1992 model car with tiny grandma wheels.

So. My day was derailed and delayed by two hours, so I was behind for the rest of it.

The upside?  They fixed the tire situation quickly and for almost nothing.

And then, my day was salvaged completely when I received an offer on yet one more listing! This makes four houses in contract, closing like dominoes on November 19, November 30, December 2nd and then December 28th.

The best part was that the offer was written by my former boss, who presented it to me in my office, with me in the big chair, and with him sitting in the visitor chair.  Surreal, weird, but pleasant.  My seller accepted the offer and is ecstatic.

What started as a terrible day turned out to be wonderful.

Sometimes, I really like that roller coaster!

Oct 11 2010

Overtime Blues

I know I mentioned that PC got a full time job.  He started it a week ago today, and has already clocked in about twelve hours of overtime.  When he was hired, he was told there would be no Sundays, and only occasional Saturdays.  And that his hours would be 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., with longer hours on Mondays when they have extra mail to sort through.

Yeah. He’s working this next Saturday, and starting next quarter, they’ll be on Sundays.  His schedule for the next two weeks include going in at 6:30 a.m., or getting off at 7:00 p.m.  There’s overtime already built in.

I’m seriously not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but PC was a little alarmed at how different the schedule is now from what he was told when he got the job.  One of the other new employees today asked him “Uhhh…did they tell you when you started that we’d be here til 8:00 or 10:00 at night sometimes, or that we’d be working Sundays?”  He said no, it was a surprise to him.

In the grand scheme of things, there are way worse problems to have.  His first payday is Friday, unless they change THAT, too.

Rabbit’s the one struggling the most with this.  Suddenly, on weekdays she sees Daddy only for a few minutes in the morning and then for maybe half an hour before bed.

Oh well.  They’re thick as thieves, as Grandpa would have said.  She gloms onto him any chance she has, and this job is an absolute Godsend (five people were hired from over 200 applicants).  It’s just an adjustment we’re fortunate to have to make.

Sep 29 2010

Slobbering Bliss

A house I listed for some sellers and put on the market the day after Easter just went under contract today.  The real estate market here has been rough, but this home was in a bit higher price range than the median in our city, and took about three times longer to sell than we had anticipated.

These clients and I have been through the wringer together, with price reductions, open houses, creative marketing, agent tours.  To add insult to injury, it’s been five months of keeping the house spotless in readiness for any showings, so their poor dog hasn’t been allowed on the furniture since the house was staged and the for sale sign went up.  When I went over today to put up the sold sign, they had let the dog, a 150-lb slobbering mastiff, finally get back on the sofa.  I swear to you, that dog was smiling.

Sep 15 2010

Television and Job Interviews

I’ve only gotten through Season 3 of 30Rock, but have many favorite quotes, including many from the strait-laced hillbilly NBC page, Kenneth Parcell.

Some of those include his exclamation of shock (“Son of a MARRIED couple!”) and his immortal words while falling into an allergy-induced coma (“My real name…is…Dick Whitman!”).  Kenneth also offers advice about politics:  (“Oh no Sir, I don’t vote Republican or Democrat. Choosing is a sin, so I always just write in the Lord’s name.”)

There’s so much more that cracks me up, and the episode where Alec Baldwin’s character role plays in psychotherapy to be Tracy Morgan’s characters inner-city father AND mother had me screaming and crying with laughter.  (“Just because I’m just the man you paid a nickel to bust up this here chiffarobe…”  and the therapist saying “Uh…I don’t think this is helping.”)

My point is, there is still good television out there.  And by out there, I mean not at my house, because we no longer have DirecTV.  But thank goodness for Netflix, where I watched 30Rock and am shortly going to commence watching, from the beginning, “Arrested Development” because I’ve never seen it.  PC says its the funniest show he’s ever seen, so if it is funnier than 30Rock, I may have to start wearing diapers.

Oh, speaking of PC (and not diapers), all good thoughts will be greatly appreciated.  He has an interview tomorrow for a full time, INDOOR job that doesn’t require him to be paid in cash every three days by a convicted felon who may or may not have contributed to the violent death of one of his past employees (innocent until proven guilty).  Anyway, we really, really, really need him to do well at the interview.

What was I saying?

Aug 8 2008

Nice Housey Housey

I’ve been showing houses all day and my clients and I wrote an offer at the office just a little while ago. We’re desperate to get this house and be done with this part of the process. 

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Oh, you nice house.  You nice, nice house.  Come here, house, we won’t bite you.

Yes, you’re a nice house.  Yes you are.  You don’t smell like mildew.  You don’t have heaving concrete in the basement.  Your counters are clean.

I know.  I know.  Yes.  Your wallpaper IS ugly.  But we’ll get rid of it, and give you a nice coat of neutral paint.  Don’t cry, housey.  No….you don’t need hardwood floors for us to love you, but you also don’t need to pretend with Tarket laminate, either.  You didn’t have to go to the expense, but we’ll squint and pretend.  Let’s just be friends.

Oh, housey, don’t run away.  No…no…we were only joking about the terrible orange shag carpet in the basement and the smoked glass mirrors in the basement bathroom.  We know you were built in 1972 and you’ve aged beautifully, all things considered. 

We want you to join the family.  We’re tired of looking at houses that smell like the inside of a can of peas.  We’re tired of scrappy lawns and sagging fences, chewed-up siding and gutters that sprout seedlings along the roof line. 

Yes, I do see that other Realtor calling her clients to come back to see you again.  No, it’s not nice for her to try to steal you out from under my clients.  We’re going to chase her away, housey.

Yes, we are.

Mar 11 2008

85th Time Is a Charm

I just got a house sold to a buyer who looked at 85 houses over the past year, with me. That’s 85 houses I physically went into with her, and we finally found the right one.

This is momentous. We’ve been through hell and back together and I stuck with her, she stuck with me, and we found the cutest house in our entire town, the greatest deal, and I presented the offer to the seller in front of the seller’s agent, and SOLD my buyer to her. They accepted the offer while I waited in my car in the driveway, over another good offer they received an hour before.

So yeah, I don’t have anything else to write about. I feel like I just gave birth to a 9lb baby. With dormers and a brick porch.